Siege by Friendly Forces

In terms of appearance, none of the Primarch are inferior to the others. Even Horus, who suffered from baldness and eventually became Baldy, still exudes a kind of intriguing roguish charm!

As the saying goes, beauty is justice. The Emperor, who was the epitome of abstraction, put a lot of effort into sculpting the face of the Primarch.

In addition, with Eldar being a looks-obsessed person, the two, despite being a pair of crazy people, still showed basic care for their offspring. After all, who wouldn't want their children to be good-looking?

Therefore, none of the Primarch are ugly. Even the somewhat unkempt Mortarion, after being groomed, could be a handsome top male escort.

However, appearance is only one aspect; what truly drew mixed reviews about the Primarchs was their Abstract Maneuver.

Fulgrim is a perfectionist, which can be described as obsessive-compulsive disorder, or simply vanity. When he has nothing to do, he likes to look in the mirror in his room and admire his unparalleled beauty.

How to put it... if you swapped the genders of Perturabo, Luojia, or even Sisyphus, it wouldn't make him seem gay.

Mordred also possesses some of the traits of Fulgrim, has the same problem, but unlike Phoenix, he always likes to tinker with his cool hairstyle, and his fashion sense is undeniable, so he chose to steal accounts.

But that's not the main reason. The most important reason is that Mordred a little guilty, especially towards Inwit.

Atlas provided aid to many worlds, and Dorn even told Mordred about his homeland out of trust, after which Mordred secretly planted a Cyclone Torpedo in Inwit.

They also took advantage of Dorn's inattention to gather troops in Inwit, telling the people that they were the Blood Angels, that they had a close personal relationship with Dorn, that they had all been released, and that they were now the people's leader.

Ten thousand years have passed, and Atlas's tentacles have all been severed. Who knows if his little secret has been discovered? Rather than making a grand entrance, it's better to let the Great Angel reappear in the galaxy. After all, one's reputation is earned by oneself. When Mordred was being treated like a dog by the sheep tribe, he still called himself Zhuang Sen.

"So you planted bombs in Caliban too?"

"Not that little!"

"You son of a bitch, I should have impeached you at the Council of Nicaea back then, you deserve to die!"

"I'm just taking precautions. Who knows which of you might betray us? I've made 22 plans, I even considered the possibility of me betraying you myself. We're brothers, after all."

The Lion King remained silent, thinking to himself that having a brother like him was the worst luck imaginable. But then he realized something was wrong; there were only 21 Primarch at most, so where did he get 22 plans from?

"Emperor?"

"You really can't hide anything from me. That's right, I also have a Dead Hand Plan. If there is no hope left in the world, I will find a way to detonate Old Man Huang and make him end everything."

But rest assured, among all my plans, the defenses against the First Legion are by no means the most stringent.

"Who is number one?"

"Is that even a question? Of course, it's the Ultramarines."

Mordred spoke so frankly about something so despicable, but what was most striking was that Zhuang Sen seemed to agree with it.

"Indeed, the Ultramarines are far too Ambition. I've personally witnessed them Killed in Action 100,000 men, and then turn around and produce another 100,000, just like the Orks that spawn in the wild, forever maintaining a population of 250,000."

The two walked and talked in hushed tones, so quiet that they went unnoticed, especially by the fellow Inwit who was leading the way.

As the saying goes, Everyone Loves the Archangel. Inwit may seem like a poor, remote place, but its reverence for Great Angel, or perhaps even excessive.

On the vast frozen wasteland, the towering Icecrown Fortress stands tall, showcasing the unique culture of this place. The most eye-catching features are the two statues on the citadel: one of Rogal Dorn and the other of Sanguinius.

Upon closer inspection, there were actually more statues of the Blood Angels than those of the Imperial Fists.

Even though it was in Dorn's hometown, the symbol of the Blood Angels appeared, and this Blood Angels was fake, an imposter made by those bastards Atlas.

Zhuang Sen was unable to express his feelings at that moment in words. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't, so he could only choose silence.

News of the Primarch's arrival reached the fortress instantly, and one Inwit after another emerged from the burrows to pay homage to this incomparably sacred demigod.

If the Space Squats are a group of short people who are 1.2 meters tall, then the Inwit are half-humans, somewhere between normal humans and Space Squats. They are only 1.5 meters tall, but are particularly strong.

The people here are unaware of the Great Heresy, nor of the empire's eternal cesspool. It's like a small, artificially isolated world, preserving the purest form of happiness. Most importantly, the people here believe in the Imperial Truth.

Compared to Inwit, Holy Terra seems somewhat heretical.

Dorn's departure sealed everything off, but it didn't mean he abandoned everything. Before leaving, he had built Inwit up very well, and with Atlas's nearly two centuries of subsequent renovations, the Inwit people lived quite comfortably.

There are starports, colonies, and a guard legion of its own, composed entirely of Inwit. The traces of the Empire are few and far between; only the statues indicate that this place was once part of the Empire.

The biting winds of Inwit forged their unwavering will and instilled in them a strong sense of collective honor. This place was like a paradise, free from the darkness and decay of the Outside World.

"My goodness, you're amazing! Are you the Brave Hero went out to save the world ten thousand years ago?"

Driven by curiosity, a group of teenagers surrounded them, asking all sorts of questions. They would occasionally climb onto Mordred's shoulders, asking if they could have a feather, or approach them to look at and touch this and that, curious about what the Outside World was like and why they looked different from Sanguinius.

The question was unanswerable. The Dark Angels remained silent, burying their heads in their food. Although they were disguised as the Imperial Fists, they were more like their Gene-Father disguised as Ogryn.

Among them were veterans who fought the entire game, Risen Angels who had been found by the Lion King and stopped breathing, and of course, there were also madmen of this era.

Looking at these enthusiastic little dwarfs, full of curiosity about the world, they couldn't help but wonder what they had fought for, and why they had become Astartes.

The more they thought about it, the more powerless and confused they felt. But in the end, they chose to accept it, forcing a not-so-friendly smile as they answered one question after another that they also wanted to know.

Unlike the group of Dark Angels who had attained enlightenment in Longchang, Mordred returned to Inwit as if he were back home. He boasted without ever preparing a draft, speaking with such vivid detail that it drew cheers from a crowd of onlookers.

Soon, news of the Sanguinius' arrival in Inwit caught the attention of the local governor, who invited these figures from mythology to a banquet.

Perhaps due to the climate, despite their short stature, the Inwit have a penchant for strong liquor. A large pork knuckle with sauerkraut, accompanied by a bottle of 96-proof "water of life," makes for a truly delightful meal.

Since things have come to this, let's eat first.

In each dungeon they visited, Mordred and his companions would go back and forth, eating voraciously. After a whole month of this, even Zhuang Sen had swelled up. But they eventually managed to find out the whereabouts of the giants, or Dorn hadn't been hiding at all; he was just lying low in the Arctic.

According to the locals, every hundred years, the Inwit would make a pilgrimage to the Arctic to hear the awe-inspiring wisdom of the Primarchs, where there were giants as tall as you. The holy site was also called the Imperial Palace by us, which is the one depicted in the murals.

The so-called Imperial Palace truly is an Imperial Palace; aside from being slightly smaller in size, it is exactly the same as the Imperial Palace in Holy Terra. It is clearly the work of Dorn.

Especially those lemon-faced people on the murals—no wonder we didn't see the Imperial Fists; they've all gone here!

After all, he's a big guy who's always slacking off, so he'll definitely find something to do, like doing some civil engineering in his spare time, which fits Dorn's personality perfectly.

The thought of soon dragging Dorn over and making him suffer made Mordred and Zhuang Sen hum softly. They stopped eating and drinking and set off in their Stormraven transport ship toward the North Pole.

There was no abstract indication of a plane crash, Stormraven quickly flew to the so-called Imperial Palace. As soon as it landed, a group of Imperial Fists rushed out from inside:

"Hello everyone... Bang!"

Before he could finish speaking, a bomb was embedded in Mordred's skull. The burning propellant charge, which had just stopped burning, triggered a small explosion, completely stunning Mordred.

After a full 0.01 seconds of stunned silence, Mordred's face instantly darkened. He kicked Rambo, who was almost caught in a barrage of bombs, and with a bark, he vanished in an instant.

A cold, damp, supernatural mist obscured everything, preventing the Dark Angels from being killed by the Imperial Fists' concentrated fire. The Lion King's figure leaped out of the mist, and together with Mordred, who also appeared from behind the enemy, they unleashed a flurry of punches.

Even the strongest Space Marine cannot defeat the Primarch. In a mere instant, two figures flashed out from the crowd. Before the first Imperial Fists fell, all 50 large Lemons were taken down without a single Killed in Action.

These Imperial Fists, however, acted as if they had been poisoned by rats. After realizing that two Primarchs had appeared, they not only refused to surrender but continued to increase their firepower, even bringing out tanks and disregarding friendly forces, launching a barrage of heavy firepower.

Mordred and Zhuang Sen can unleash their full potential with their superior mobility, but others can't withstand it.

Without any hesitation, a verdant psionic barrier rose from the ground, directly enveloping everyone, including those Imperial Fists who had fallen to the ground.

It's strange, even incomprehensible. Mordred is currently in the form of Sanguinius, and the Dark Angels is still wearing the Imperial Fists's clothes. She came in and started fighting without saying a word. What's going on?

"Traitor!"

"Who, is he talking about me?"

"Nonsense, I'm just an Ogryn."

"It's you! You despicable traitors! We've all come here to hide, and you still won't leave us alone!"

Grabbing up the Imperial Fists, whose neck was broken and who was paralyzed but not dead on the spot, Mordred pointed to his large face and said:

"Open your eyes and look carefully! I am Sanguinius! Even if you don't recognize me, that Dark Angels is still wearing the uniform of your Imperial Fists!"

"What! You're not the Imperial Fists? You're the Dark Angels!"

"Damn it, you even sent the Dark Angels! Backup Hidden Energy —activate!"